


humani a me nihil alienum puto

by AccursedSpatula



Series: astra inclinant, sed non obligant [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cross-cultural, Established Relationship, Grinding, Homesickness, M/M, Oral Sex, Romantic Gestures, damn big g ur bobbies, tit fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14469207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/pseuds/AccursedSpatula
Summary: “There’s one dish from your shores,” he said, roughly tugging at the knot tying Gilgamesh’s sash together, “that I fear I’ve developed a rather sudden taste for.”“Oh?”“Mm.” Ardyn pulled the sash’s knot open, shifting the loops of fabric further up Gilgamesh’s bare stomach to free them from his trousers. “We have similar ones here, but I find yours to be the best.”





	humani a me nihil alienum puto

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by the infallible [sordes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes).
> 
> Title from the Latin "homo sum humani a me nihil alienum puto" / 'I am man, nothing human is foreign to me.'

_When in Lucis, do as the Lucians do._

In truth, doing as the Lucians do was something Gilgamesh did rather well, even though his roots lay abroad, a fact that Ardyn nowadays was both always aware of and always forgot. He spoke fluent common, albeit with a rather charming accent, he was educated and part of reigning nobility in his homeland, and had enough cultural understanding that he seldom made a faux pas anymore. But in those moments, when Gilgamesh didn’t understand a particular colloquialism or custom, his alienness became all the more apparent. At first these sorts of misunderstandings had clearly flustered him, but now Gilgamesh regarded them with nothing more than bemusement, a few minutes of laughter and reflection. As they’d grown in their relationship, he’d begun offering explanations for his actions and misinterpretations, giving the reasoning for his thinking from his own culture.

Ardyn clung to those tidbits; he had only briefly been in Gilgamesh’s homeland, on the campaign that had incorporated it into the republic and brought Gilgamesh to his side, at first a sworn hostage, later as his willing protector. He’d wanted to travel and visit it for the last two years, ever since his relationship with Gilgamesh had truly began, but the opportunity had yet to present itself, though Ardyn kept a constant eye out for ways to force the situation.

It was hard for Ardyn to gauge just how Gilgamesh really felt about the republic and life in the capitol most days. He certainly didn’t seem to mind the day to day living, at least as far as Ardyn could tell, but there were certain moments, certain occasions, where Ardyn wondered if he missed what he’d left behind.

If he did, however, he never voiced it, and those occasions were few and far between.

Today, Gilgamesh was at his side as they set off to join Somnus and his party at the arena. His brother, as a recently elected consul, had a box in one of the cavea, and had invited Ardyn to join him for the games which opened the solstice festival. Although Ardyn had inwardly wondered if Somnus had only invited him out of propriety and to have another body in the box, making his brother look more prestigious, he’d accepted, reasoning that he’d at least enjoy the games with a good view regardless of his brother’s intentions.

They had cut through the forum earlier, now wandering through the sprawling marketplace just off it. Normally Ardyn enjoyed the markets, wandering the stalls and perusing the wares, buying whatever caught his eye (such were the advantages of having been born into an old, prosperous family), but today, they were elbowing shoppers left and right, struggling to navigate such a crowded area. Everyone was no doubt out and about in anticipation of the festivities, and Ardyn rolled his eyes each time they were stalled by a gaggle of slow shoppers, moving like dull-eyed livestock.

Gilgamesh seemed frustrated by it all, too, pulling Ardyn down narrow pathways between stalls here and there. They’d stopped behind an elderly domina and her cluster of servants surveying earthenware at a stall, Gilgamesh snagging Ardyn’s wrist to tug him away and through the tight back way, rounding another stall.

Ardyn, still invested in the saga of watching this woman try and buy a jug, had run smack into his backside as Gilgamesh abruptly stopped. He’d blinked, confused, to find Gilgamesh staring at the stall they were rounding, a peculiar expression gracing his features, something between curiosity and hope, with another element thrown in that Ardyn couldn’t quite identify.

The stall seemed perfectly ordinary, laden with small wooden boxes that generally held spices, a dark haired woman and her daughter chatting as they arranged them on the table. Ardyn saw other foodstuffs about from a quick glance, searching for whatever had captivated Gilgamesh so, but ultimately, he heard it before he saw anything. He caught a snippet of the conversation between mother and daughter, recognizing their words as hailing from Gilgamesh’s native tongue, and in that instant he realized why Gilgamesh had paused here.

The mother looked over, now having noticed the very large man keenly observing her stall, and smiled warmly. “Hello,” she said in common, waving them over with friendly eyes.

“Good day,” Gilgamesh said, in his native language, and she lit up, excitedly pulling her daughter over as Gilgamesh rounded the corner and approached her stall.

With her daughter in tow, she said something to Gilgamesh, and the daughter chimed in as well. Gilgamesh replied a beat later, a long string of sharp consonants spoken so quickly Ardyn couldn’t tell where one word, one sentence ended and another began, but whatever Gilgamesh had said made the woman laugh.

Eagerly, she said something in response, tilting her head toward Ardyn, who tensed slightly. He didn’t understand enough of Gilgamesh’s mother tongue to follow their conversation; he could mostly keep up when Gilgamesh spoke to him, curbing his vocabulary and speaking slowly and clearly, of course, but this was a trial by fire that Ardyn was entirely unprepared for, an impromptu exam that he hadn’t studied for.

A moment later Gilgamesh was gesturing to Ardyn, grinning at him while he bumped their shoulders, and Ardyn blinked in surprise, a nervous smile plastered on his face. Whatever he’d done seemed to amuse both of them, laughing like old friends sharing an in-joke, and Ardyn felt his face heat slightly in embarrassment, though he knew neither of them meant anything malicious by it. It was just strange to feel the odd man out, the foreigner, especially given where they stood, in the heart of the capitol.

Ardyn busied himself examining the spices hung up around the stall while Gilgamesh talked, finding some familiar, others oddly shaped, similar to plants he recognized but with their shapes slightly distorted. From his periphery he saw the woman hand Gilgamesh two small, brown cakes, insisting he take them despite his polite refusal--at least, that was what Ardyn assumed based on their body language.

More words were exchanged between them, Ardyn still pretending to be interested in the spices and jugs and other things at this stall, weaving his gaze among the sacks and jars at the back, up to the dried and salted fish and meat strung up on a rack and the long strips of muslin hanging from the ceiling, coated with some kind of leathery substance.

“Ardyn.”

Gilgamesh stood beside him, now ready to go, judging from his expression. Ardyn turned away, bidding the woman and her daughter with a slight nod and earning a smile in return, before he refocused on Gilgamesh.

“All done?”

Gilgamesh snorted in friendly laughter. “Yes.” He broke off a bit of one of the cakes in hand. “Sorry for delaying us.” He held out the portion he’d torn off to Ardyn, almost like a peace offering.

Ardyn took it from Gilgamesh’s hand. “It’s no matter,” he replied, examining the little bit of bready cake, as Gilgamesh brushed the crumbs off his own hand before they started walking. “What’s this?”

“Bread, made from barley flour.”

“Oh.” It was slightly spongy but otherwise inoffensive, and Ardyn popped the morsel in his mouth without any thought. Heavy, slightly yeasty, it didn’t have much taste, but by the same measure, it wasn’t awful either.

“It tastes like home,” Gilgamesh said, and although there was a smile on his face Ardyn could hear something like... sadness in his tone.

“You used to eat those?”

“With every meal,” Gilgamesh replied, breaking off another chunk and tearing into it. He offered the cake out to Ardyn, who held up his hand in quiet declination. “Though I don’t think I’ve had one in three years at this point.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ardyn said, unsure of what else to say. A brief pause settled between them, Gilgamesh picking free another chunk off the cake.

“That woman was from a town very near to where I grew up. She said her husband is a merchant; he deals mostly in spices.” Gilgamesh gave a little shrug. “Was just nice to talk for a bit. I think she was as surprised to find someone who spoke our tongue in this city as I was.”

Ardyn nodded. He had nothing to really contribute to this conversation; it had been three years, close to four, since Gilgamesh had last set foot on his home shores, and Ardyn had only been there through the campaign. Ardyn himself had never been truly uprooted in such a fashion, forced to call a foreign city home (or at least as much as Gilgamesh deemed it home), and for the first time he really seemed to stop and realize that Gilgamesh had spent the almost the entirety of his life in a culture that was vastly different than the one he now inhabited.

“I’m glad you could speak with her,” Ardyn said, a paltry apology for cutting Gilgamesh out of his home, his people, his country and bringing him here.

For a second, Gilgamesh’s brow furrowed in clear despondency, his eyes narrowing, mouth turned down at the corners, but it was quickly washed away as he picked up his gaze. “As am I,” he commented, before blinking, brushing off the last vestiges of what was clearly homesickness from his form.

“We should hurry,” he said, turning back to Ardyn. “Somnus will hate it if we’re late.”

\---

Gilgamesh was quieter the next day, still friendly and amicable of course, but no longer the one to begin a conversation, and not quite so vivacious once engaged. Ardyn could see the melancholy in his eyes, no longer quite so bright, and the way his smile strained so slightly.

He’d found Gilgamesh writing in the peristylium when he’d gone looking for his company in the afternoon, lounging out on a bench with a pile of date palms, carefully printing tiny lines in his native script on slightly curling parchment. Of course he’d set it down upon seeing Ardyn, offering him the dates instead, and Ardyn had perched beside him, indulging and sharing the fruit between them as they sat in comfortable silence.

And in that moment, staring at the smooth curved characters on Gilgamesh’s parchment, winding like vines across the page, Ardyn realized that despite his own ignorance to the issue, Gilgamesh clearly missed the roots he had been taken from.

Would that he could, Ardyn would have taken him back in that instant, would have boarded a ship at his side and gladly sailed with him over dark blue waters, would have walked twisting streets in a foreign city to see him back to the dwelling he’d called home before all of this.

But instead Ardyn just sat close to him, hand laid over Gilgamesh’s, resting his head on his shoulder, pondering just what it must be like to be in his stead, though not all-encompassing, a plan to alleviate at least some of Gilgamesh’s homesickness brewing.

The next morning, Ardyn set out early, wandering the streets to the marketplace as the sun peeked over the red pantiled roofs of the city. Around him, most were just starting their mornings, the streets beginning to fill with merchants and craftsmen and others. By the time Ardyn reached the marketplace most were up and about, the stalls lively, their crier taking up his post at the head of the square.

It took Ardyn no time at all to find the stall once more, rounding the curve to find the mother hanging up the strings of muslin and spices to the beam beneath the awning. She recognized Ardyn at once, beckoning him over.

“No friend?” she said in common, gesturing high above her head, a clear nod to Gilgamesh’s stature.

Summoning all of his confidence all while wishing he’d started the morning with a cup of wine for the extra courage, Ardyn replied with a “Not today,” in Gilgamesh’s tongue, but he was fairly certain his not wasn’t conjugated correctly and instead he’d uttered something more akin to ‘None today.’

Whatever his error, she nodded understandingly, a smile on her face at Ardyn’s (albeit amateur) grasp of her language. Emboldened, Ardyn nodded before continuing on.

“I want to...” he trailed off, having completely forgotten the word for surprise, “...get him a gift. With food.”

She nodded; his meaning was clear despite his mangling of verb forms and enunciation. “A feast?” she asked, grinning, throwing a glance over her shoulder at her daughter. “A good friend you are, indeed.”

Ardyn went crimson in embarrassment, thinking of just how good friends he was with Gilgamesh, fishing in his robes to pull out his purse as a distraction. “I have coin.”

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “For later,” she said, using his language. “First we show you.”

Ardyn spent the better part of the next hour being instructed with a primer on cooking several dishes, from the ingredients he’d need to the steps involved in preparing and serving. It was quite a bit to take in, Ardyn shuffled between mother and daughter as they set up the booth (with Ardyn’s awkward attempts to help) and took the time to educate this (rather ignorant, after his own opinion) hapless student.

But he persevered, committing as much to memory in the short space as he could, seasonings and ratios and times and steps. Through a mix of both their languages they managed to communicate rather well, and Ardyn had no trouble following any conversations. He found both mother and daughter rather personable, really, and when it was all said and done, when his memory couldn’t handle any more spices or techniques, Ardyn handed over his whole coin purse, insisting they keep it, while the daughter gave him a heavy sack full of what he’d need.

As he took it, the mother seemed to reconsider a moment, holding her hand up as a sign he should wait. Ardyn did, and she rummaged around at the back of the stall, procuring a thick fired jar with a black clay stopper, hefty, nearly the size of an amphore. She handed it to Ardyn, and then made a drinking gesture with her hands, and Ardyn nodded, understanding, as she laughed, mirth in her eyes. Smiling, he turned away, bidding goodbye to both of them

Ardyn had never really learned to cook, never bothered with it─he’d always had a staff, both here and abroad on campaigns─and as he watched he wondered if he’d be capable of recreating this once he reached home. But he’d try, at least; he’d give it his very best attempt, in the efforts of bringing the lightheartedness back to Gilgamesh’s smile.

And maybe, if luck were on his side, he’d succeed.

\---

Everything looked good, at least.

Ardyn set the last dish on the small table beside one of the accubita, a shallow silver bowl holding a thick date porridge, turning it slightly to fit with the others. It joined a collection spanning two tables and several courses, at least, as far as Ardyn’s understanding went; he wasn’t quite so familiar on the dining practices of Gilgamesh’s people. But he had a myriad of items, from a soup made of some kind of legume he didn’t think had a name in common, more barley cakes, grilled mutton seasoned in a way that Ardyn found both intriguing and appealing, salted fish, the date pudding and an accompanying pot of honey, plus several cuts of the muslin he’d seen hanging in the stall, the paste evidently a sort of leather made from pressed fruit.

And sitting beside it all, the heavy clay jug, full of some sort of libation, one that Ardyn was most curious about.

His heart was nearly thrumming out of his ribs from the moment he sent a servant to fetch Gilgamesh and bring him to the smaller triclinium, beating so fast Ardyn was honestly a little surprised that he was still on his feet. Nervously he was pacing between the couches of their reserve dining room, the one saved for special guests or rare occasions, but in Ardyn’s mind, this qualified as a worthy cause to use the room, and regardless, he was dominus after all.

Ardyn was so wrapped up in his nervous, completely unjustified and unfounded thoughts of Gilgamesh rejecting what Ardyn offered him, of scoffing at his attempts to recreate a tiny slice of his heritage and his old comforts, that he scarcely noticed when the door opened, only looking over at the sound of it latching shut.

Gilgamesh stood there, hair wild, dressed in only trousers and boots, wrappings covering his forearms, the kind he wore under his manica, the plates running down his arms. His greaves were still in place, fastened over his boots, and Ardyn realized he’d interrupted his training out in the yard, Gilgamesh shedding his lorica segmentata before rushing inside, leaving the heavy body armor and sleeves outside.

“You sent for me,” he said, his face turning from serious to a wry grin as he saw that Ardyn was fine, that the situation was nothing dire nor urgent.

“I did,” Ardyn admitted, “but I didn’t mean to interrupt. If you need to--”

Gilgamesh pushed some of the stray wisps of hair from his face. “It’s hot as Ifrit’s balls outside; the respite is very welcome.”

He took a few steps into the room, Ardyn nervously moving aside to give him a clear line of sight to both tables, Gilgamesh’s gaze dropping from Ardyn to the spread covering both tables.

“What’s... all this?” he asked, looking Ardyn in the eye, his expression suddenly very vulnerable, his strong, dark brow pursed in confusion.

Ardyn raked a clammy hand through his hair, heart suddenly somehow going faster than it had been before, a steady din in his ears, and nervously gripped a portion of his robes. “It’s, ah...” he began, tripping over his own tongue as he tried to string syllables into the words he wanted, “...I just wanted... You’ve been...” Ardyn took a deep breath, trying to quell the sound of his heartbeat and wrangle his thoughts while Gilgamesh pored over the assembly of dishes.

“It’s food,” Ardyn said at long last, hand curled into a tight fist at his side, nails digging into the heel of his hand.

“I can see as much.”

“Your food.” Ardyn’s head spun, and he dropped his gaze away from Gilgamesh, cursing himself for this hackneyed idea, something a dutiful wife would do for her husband, not something an educated elite, a very _male_ elite, did for his foreign, clandestine lover. “You just... seemed rather withdrawn after we met that woman at the marketplace, and I know how you must miss your homeland, so I wanted to...”

“Did you make all of this?”

“Most of it,” Ardyn said, wishing a stray bolt of Ramuh’s lightning would find him in this instant and perhaps relieve his soul from his skeleton. “The bread I bought. And I had one of the culina girls to help me.”

In another second, before Ardyn even had time to react, to flinch or pull back, Gilgamesh was on him, thick, broad, hands bracketing Ardyn’s face to hold him in place while he leaned in and kissed him, nearly crushing their mouths together with the force of his passion. Helplessly, Ardyn pawed at Gilgamesh with his hands, finding purchase on his chest, Gilgamesh’s skin hot and slick with sweat. He smelled musky and masculine and _raw,_ utterly intoxicating in a primal way, his scent overpowering Ardyn in addition to the kiss.

They parted after a moment, Gilgamesh laughing softly, pressing one final kiss to the corner of Ardyn’s mouth before drawing back to create some space between them, sliding his hands down to Ardyn’s upper arms. His eyes were alight, crinkled at the outer corners with how broadly he was smiling, sheepishly, like he simply couldn’t contain his emotions, the well running so deep that it had spilled forth.

Gilgamesh chuckled nervously, softly, but Ardyn could feel it reverberating around in his chest, the vibrations tingling his fingertips. He smiled, too, Gilgamesh’s overpowering joy infectious, the two of them just standing in the center of the triclinium, occasionally brushing noses or trading a quick kiss.

Eventually Gilgamesh stepped back, making sure Ardyn was following him as he focused his attentions on the tables and the dishes laden on them. His hands hovered above the spread, occasionally considering a grab towards one of them, but then pulling back, as if debating which dish was worthy of being first.

“Did you try them?”

“Not really,” Ardyn admitted. “Just a taste here and there when making them.”

Gilgamesh hummed his acknowledgment, before he grabbed a long, low dish full of mutton in a spiced sauce, settling himself on the leftmost couch. “Then I suppose we should sample the fruits of your labor together.”

Ardyn watched as he dug in without hesitation, thick fingers grasping a morsel and biting into it, eyes closing as he savored the flavors hitting his tongue. In that second, watching Gilgamesh enjoy himself, any and all awkwardness, embarrassment, labor, and worry evaporating at once, like water spilled onto a hot cooking stone.

Still happily chewing, Gilgamesh patted the spot beside him on the sofa, and Ardyn managed to gain enough control of his limbs to lamely cross the room and sit beside him. Gilgamesh held the bowl out as Ardyn settled himself, encouraging Ardyn to dig in with a little nudge of the serving ware in his direction. Cautiously, Ardyn lifted his hand, fingers plucking out a piece of mutton from the bowl, vaguely aware of how crude this was, not even bothering with utensils, but Gilgamesh seemed too eager to devour all of this and share it with Ardyn to let a spoon slow him down.

It was actually rather delicious upon Ardyn’s tongue, not overdone, the sauce rich, and Gilgamesh lit up when Ardyn grinned as he finished chewing and swallowed. What followed was a flurry of indulgence, Gilgamesh eagerly tasting his way through everything Ardyn had prepared, Ardyn in tow. The moment something graced Gilgamesh’s tongue he was pressing a matching portion into Ardyn’s hands, vivaciously explaining what the name for said dish was in his tongue, when he’d eaten it growing up, what region was known for it, and any other tidbits he saw fit.

They ate until most of the dishes were empty, Gilgamesh caught up in the waves of nostalgia from time to time, a distant look to his eyes, no doubt wrapped up in his memories. But there was no sadness to his eyes when he returned, just more excited chatter and joking between them.

Eventually, they’d polished off most of the courses, Ardyn nibbling on the date porridge (with a spoon, one he’d insisted upon after the mutton), Gilgamesh finishing the last few bites of some smoked fish. Setting the plate down upon the table, Gilgamesh stood, stepping around the table to pick up the clay jar, setting it among the plates.

“She didn’t tell me what that was,” Ardyn said around a mouthful of date, gesturing to the jar as Gilgamesh cut away the black stopper.

“It’s beer,” Gilgamesh said with certainty, and Ardyn raised his brows. He’d heard of the drink, but it was also regarded as barbaric and uncouth, a foul thing not suited for consumption by those cultured in the republic.

Ardyn doubted those rumors held any kind of weight.

Gilgamesh pulled the stopper free, casually discarding it among their empty serving ware, reaching for the two cups they’d been casually sipping wine from. The dregs of wine were discarded, and then Gilgamesh filled their cups from the jar, a pleased, sated smirk on his lips.

He handed one cup to Ardyn before he sat back down, his own in hand. Ardyn looked down at the contents of his cup, rolling his wrist to swirl the viscous, brown liquid around. It was thicker than he’d expected, and the color wasn’t quite... pleasant to look at, but Ardyn reasoned he could try anything at least once.

“Thank you,” Gilgamesh said, staring down into his own glass, and it took Ardyn a moment to realize that he hadn’t said it in common, but in his mother tongue. “It means more to me than you know.”

“You’re welcome,” Ardyn replied, rather pleased with his pronunciation this time around. He raised his glass slightly, and Gilgamesh did the same, mirroring him.

Without further delay, Ardyn brought his cup to his lips. The beer smelled bready, distinctly like the barley cakes they’d had earlier, and Ardyn blinked a few times, bracing himself as he tipped the cup back. He started with a healthy sip, the liquid hitting his tongue, bitter and yeasty, and Ardyn grimaced, fingers clutching his cup as he forced himself to swallow.

“Oh, that’s awful,” he said, shaking his head. “I need wine.”

Beside him, Gilgamesh let out a hefty laugh, snorting, nearly choking on his own mouthful. “Not to your liking, then?”

“It’s vile,” Ardyn said, pointing at his cup. “I rescind every nice thing I’ve ever said about you. You truly are a barbarian.”

Gilgamesh laughed harder, leaning over to snag the pot of honey from the table. “You just need a little honey in it,” he advised.

“I don’t think honey’s going to save it,” Ardyn responded, swishing the liquid around in his cup, giving it a hard once over.

“Nonsense,” Gilgamesh said confidently, still beaming. “Just try it.”

Ardyn shook his head, pulling his cup away. “No,” he teased. “I’ll just... suffer.”

“So you can hold this over me later?”

“Absolutely.” Ardyn grinned, in a manner he was sure even the most unskilled wordsmiths would describe as “shit-eating,” and Gilgamesh, in response, dipped his thumb into the honey and smeared it against Ardyn’s lips, lingering there for a moment.

Flirtatiously, Ardyn flicked his tongue out, catching a bead of it, and as Gilgamesh went to pull his hand away Ardyn grasped him at the wrist. Daringly, well aware of how lascivious he must look, Ardyn slipped his tongue between Gilgamesh’s digits, licking down the length of his thumb, the honey coming away sweet on his tongue.

Gazing down at Gilgamesh through a fan of lashes, his hair falling into his face, Ardyn slid Gilgamesh’s thumb into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of it. He let his eyes fall closed as he gently pursed his lips around Gilgamesh’s thumb, sucking softly, humming in excitement, head tilted slightly to one side.

Gilgamesh swallowed thickly, and Ardyn heard him shift slightly on the accubita, the blood no doubt rushing south and making the situation in his trousers a rather tight, uncomfortable one. Eventually he slid his thumb out, trailing it over Ardyn’s lower lip, palm cupping his chin, fingers curled beneath his jaw. Ardyn blinked his eyes open to meet Gilgamesh’s stare, his eyes dark with arousal.

Ardyn carefully leaned down and set his cup on the floor before he found Gilgamesh’s hand and tenderly pried the pot from his fingers, rising from the accubita and turning his back to Gilgamesh as he walked to the doors. Behind him, Gilgamesh coughed and the accubita creaked, but Ardyn didn’t look back, just stopped at the doors with a little smile on his face.

Careful not to drop the pot, he reached for both doors, pulling them shut before shoving the latch across the center, locking them. He hesitated just a moment before turning around, pot cupped in one hand, fingers of the other tracing the rim, giving Gilgamesh a hard once over before he slowly sauntered back to the accubita.

Gilgamesh shyly made eye contact with him as Ardyn perched on the sofa once more, turning slightly to face him, one leg pulled under himself, the other dangling off the accubita. Careful not to spill the honey, Ardyn placed a hand at the center of Gilgamesh’s chest and pushed him, rather firmly, until Gilgamesh took the hint and reclined, one leg splayed on either side of the sofa, Ardyn loving the way the muscles of his stomach tensed as he lowered himself back.

“There’s one dish from your shores,” he said, roughly tugging at the knot tying Gilgamesh’s sash together, “that I fear I’ve developed a rather sudden taste for.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.” Ardyn pulled the sash’s knot open, shifting the loops of fabric further up Gilgamesh’s bare stomach to free them from his trousers. “We have similar ones here, but I find yours to be the best.”

Gilgamesh nodded this time, an understanding glint to his eye, and Ardyn smiled down fondly at him while his hands picked at the draws to Gilgamesh’s canvas trousers. “You could say it’s an old favorite,” Ardyn said, pulling the last loop free. “Something I’d have every night if I could.” Sighing, he trailed his knuckles over the swell of Gilgamesh’s groin, sussing out the stiffening length of his cock, before lightly cupping it and squeezing.

“I’ve never been one to deny you,” Gilgamesh said, and Ardyn snorted, squeezing harder. Drawing in a quick breath, Gilgamesh shut his eyes briefly, and Ardyn felt his cock twitch in his grasp. Releasing his grip, Ardyn instead curled his fingers beneath the waistband of Gilgamesh’s pants, tugging them down, Gilgamesh tensing his stomach to lift his hips and let Ardyn guide his trousers down enough to free his cock.

“Then allow me to indulge myself,” Ardyn mused, settling the waistband of Gilgamesh’s pants just below the curve of his ass, exposing everything.

The room suddenly seemed sweltering, Ardyn trailing his fingers over the dips and swells of Gilgamesh’s abdomen, sweat beading on his dark tanned skin, dusted over with coarse black hair. He traced back down, over his navel, Gilgamesh’s lower stomach tensing under Ardyn’s touch, clearly eager for more, but Ardyn stopped just short of his cock, drawing his hand away.

Instead he brought his fingertips to his lips, laving them over with his tongue, sliding them barely past his lips, Gilgamesh’s sweat salty on his tongue. Gilgamesh was watching him intently, one arm curled beneath his head as an impromptu pillow against the edge of the accubita, his other nervously squeezing at the plush padding of the sofa at his side.

Having preened enough, Ardyn grazed his knuckles up the underside of Gilgamesh’s cock, laying flat against his stomach, stiff but not quite hard enough to work with. “Seems a bit underdone,” Ardyn hummed, running the blunt edge of his thumbnail over Gilgamesh’s frenulum, tracing back down his shaft.

Ardyn teased and toyed with Gilgamesh, light little touches about his cock, a brush of fingers against his shaft, flicking his thumb against the head, just small bits of contact, enough to certainly frustrate but not to reward. After a few minutes Gilgamesh was straining to keep his hips still, resisting the urge to jerk his hips with each bit of contact, but his cock was hardening under Ardyn’s ministrations.

Eventually, Ardyn took pity on him, wrapping his fingers around Gilgamesh’s cock in a snug fist, savoring how Gilgamesh’s hips jerked beneath him, desperate for more. Ardyn stroked him just a few times, teasing his foreskin back to fully expose the head of his cock, red and leaking from the slit. He swiped away the clear fluid beading there with his thumb, working it down Gilgamesh’s shaft as he pumped him, until Gilgamesh was fully hard in his hand, cock standing proudly at attention, curling away from his stomach.

Ardyn shifted, curling half onto his side, half on his stomach, propped up on one elbow as he arranged himself between Gilgamesh’s spread thighs. Gilgamesh looked down at him, one palm nervously skating down the canvas of his trousers, his gaze both affectionate and needy by the same measure.

Carefully, Ardyn lifted the small clay pot, biting his lip to keep the smile off his face as he raised it above Gilgamesh’s straining erection, tilting it until a fat bead of the golden, viscous liquid collected at the edge. Ardyn it there for just a beat before he turned the jar that extra degree, the honey spilling over, little pearls of liquid tumbling from the pot, connected to it by thin amber threads, dripping down onto Gilgamesh’s cock to land just below the head.

Ardyn poured a fair amount out, moderating just how much with careful flicks of his wrist and the pot, watching the liquid slowly run down and curve around Gilgamesh’s cock. Above him Gilgamesh let out a stuttering breath, one that Ardyn intended to steal away completely with his next actions. Setting the pot down beside them, Ardyn laid one hand on the inside of Gilgamesh’s thigh, his other lightly grasping the base of Gilgamesh’s cock between fingers and thumb.

Now totally uninhibited, the heat acting as a strong catalyst in his acquiescence to his desires, Ardyn leaned down and licked a trail up the underside of Gilgamesh’s cock, catching the honey on the tip of his tongue, a sugary finish to the musky, salty taste of Gilgamesh’s skin. As Ardyn had hoped, he did steal that breath away, Gilgamesh sighing through his nose at the sight before him, and Ardyn smiled as he flattened his tongue out against his frenulum.

He lapped his tongue around the head, the sweet of the honey mixing with the bitter of the precome smeared there, feeling Gilgamesh’s cock jerk when he flicked over his slit, and Ardyn’s hand squeezed his thigh in response, not a warning but rather an encouragement. Ardyn dropped back down to the base, working his way up Gilgamesh’s shaft with light kitten licks, cleaning up every droplet of honey he’d drizzled on.

Ardyn had never believed in half-measures, and so, like every other task he’d set out to complete, he was nothing but thorough, running his tongue and lips over every bit of Gilgamesh’s cock. He grew bolder as he worked, graduating from teasing to full on tasting, the little grunts and groans and sighs he earned the sweetest sort of reward.

Eventually Ardyn had no desire to hold back any longer, running his tongue up the underside of Gilgamesh’s cock one last time before he slid the head between his hips and swallowed him down. Gilgamesh’s cock was pleasantly thick, enough to be a decent weight on Ardyn’s tongue, still faintly tasting of honey, but the lingering sweetness was quickly overpowered by the masculine, musky taste of him as Ardyn eased his cock in deeper, until the head nearly hit the back of his throat.

Sated for a moment, Ardyn moaned, feeling Gilgamesh writhe beneath him, his stomach flexing as he struggled to keep his hips still, trying to avoid pushing up into Ardyn’s mouth in search of more slick, tight heat. Ardyn gripped his thigh slightly, holding him steady, and then slowly drew back, lips over his teeth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking while he firmly pressed his tongue to the underside of Gilgamesh’s cock, running along the firm ridge there.

Reaching the head, Ardyn flicked his tongue over it, wicking away the bitter fluid there once more, and then relaxed his suction lightly, widening his jaw further as he bobbed his head and slid back down, hand snugly grasping the base of Gilgamesh’s cock and giving it a comfortable squeeze, twisting his fist slightly.

Ardyn quickly set a rhythm, moving his head up and down, keeping time with his hand, moaning and humming each time he slid Gilgamesh’s cock particularly deep. Almost instantly, Gilgamesh carded a hand through his hair, catching soft locks between his fingers as he encouraged Ardyn, tensing each time Ardyn slid his head down. In a matter of moments Ardyn was drooling messily, Gilgamesh’s cock a slick mess in his grip, covered in a mixture of saliva and precome and the lingering beads of honey. His own cock was hard, resting against his thigh with the way he was lying, and Ardyn was unashamedly rolling his hips, searching for some sort of friction on his own throbbing length.

After a moment he pulled off, tongue out, panting, biting back a little frustrated noise as he pried his hand off Gilgamesh’s thigh to shove it between his own, flinging aside the fabric of his own garments to get to his skin. He pressed an obscene kiss to the head of Gilgamesh’s cock, Gilgamesh’ sharp moan cutting through the air as Ardyn curled fingers around his own length, whining as he pumped himself a few times, fidgeting as raw pleasure arced through and sank low in his stomach.

Now with enough friction to tide him over, Ardyn slid Gilgamesh’s cock back into his mouth, resuming his motions with more urgency than before. Gilgamesh was panting now, grunting, and Ardyn could feel how tense he was, quickly spiraling towards the edge. His skin was dotted with sweat, little droplets glinting white in the light of the room, his breathing ragged and harsh, his expression drunk with pleasure, full lips parted, dark eyes lowered, his lashes a thick black fan, brow pursed in want.

Just the sight of him made Ardyn’s own cock twitch in his grasp, a little shock running up his spine. It was rare that he could get Gilgamesh to come so completely undone for him, looking at Ardyn with such want as Ardyn meted out his pleasure. Accompanying the sight was of course the little thrill, and Ardyn smiled around Gilgamesh’s cock in his mouth, loving how his jaw ached with it, and took him in deeper on the next stroke.

He swallowed around Gilgamesh’s cock, careful to keep his teeth clear, groaning softly as he gagged and drooled, his free hand slowly teasing the head of his own cock. Emboldened, he looked up at Gilgamesh, encouraging him, and Gilgamesh began to roll his hips and twist in search of his own release, pushing down Ardyn’s throat and anchoring him via the hand fisted in his locks.

Ardyn let him veritably fuck his face for the last bit, just relaxing his jaw and laving his tongue along the underside of Gilgamesh’s cock he thrust into Ardyn’s mouth, humming his approval as he loosely fisted his own erection. It didn’t take much more for Gilgamesh to find his pleasure, announced with a sharp grunt as he pulled Ardyn down on his cock until his nose was nearly pressed into those coarse, dark curls, cockhead jammed against the back of Ardyn’s throat as he finished, hot, bitter finish striking his soft palate. Ardyn gagged and tried to swallow, unable to keep up, most of it leaking over his lower lip in an obscene mess.

Gilgamesh’s grip almost immediately slackened in Ardyn’s hair, Gilgamesh seeming to come to his senses with the haze of desire now lifted. As Ardyn picked up his head, pulling off Gilgamesh’s now softening cock with one final long, lurid suck, he found Gilgamesh staring almost bashfully at him, cheeks still ruddy, as if embarrassed by what he’d done.

Playfully, Ardyn darted his tongue out over his lower lip and below, cleaning away the smeared remnants of Gilgamesh’s finish, the taste salty and bitter. He kept his gaze locked to Gilgamesh’s as he did so, smiling when he finished, sitting up slightly to better survey his handiwork.

“Had your fill?” Gilgamesh teased, pushing himself up on one elbow just enough to beckon Ardyn to him.

“For the moment,” Ardyn replied, draping himself over his torso, leaning in to kiss him.

Beneath him Gilgamesh felt as hot as a bed of coals, bare skin burning against Ardyn’s at any point of contact. He felt Gilgamesh’s hands settle on his legs, running over the backs of his thighs to cup Ardyn’s ass, kneading it slightly as their tongues slid past one another in a languid embrace.

But Ardyn was only willing to tolerate slow for a few moments, with his cock throbbing between his legs, still neglected, and he began to grind against Gilgamesh’s hips below him, as if to remind him of Ardyn’s pressing need. Shifting, Gilgamesh pulled his legs in, pushing Ardyn to sit astride him on his stomach. His robes were pulled open a moment later by deft hands, anchored now just at Ardyn’s shoulders and draped about him, framing the problem Gilgamesh was about to see to. Ardyn’s cock bobbed freely against his stomach, hard and dark red in color, the tip gleaming with slick, encircled at the base by a patch of red hair that trailed up to join the dusting on his chest and stomach.

Testingly, Gilgamesh curled a hand around Ardyn’s erection, Ardyn instantly bucking into his fist with a sharp whine. The contact was what he had been craving, all the better from Gilgamesh’s hand than his own, his thighs tensing as Gilgamesh pumped him a few times.

Ardyn grunted as Gilgamesh pulled his hand away, instead gripping him at the hips and encouraging him to slide forward, straddling Gilgamesh over his ribs. Gilgamesh’s barrel chest was rather broad, Ardyn awkwardly splaying his thighs out over it, laying his cock right in the groove between Gilgamesh’s pectorals. He braced himself on the edge of the accubita, hands on either side of Gilgamesh’s head, tilting his head to look down at him.

With a sated grin on his face, Gilgamesh ran his hands up Ardyn’s thighs, to his hips, flicking his thumbs over the firm ridge of Ardyn’s hip bones, tongue slipping out to wet his lower lip. Ardyn watched him curiously, and Gilgamesh carefully, slowly slid his hands upward, over his own chest, until he was cupping his pectorals, pushing them together around Ardyn’s cock. They were plush enough to snugly squeeze it, and coupled with the heat of his skin and slick of the sweat covering it, Ardyn instinctually gave into temptation and thrust his cock lightly in the tight groove.

Gilgamesh groaned beneath him, breaking off into a chuckle, his eyes half-lidded, flicking his gaze up to Ardyn, both challenging and encouraging him to move. Boldly, meeting Gilgamesh’s challenge, Ardyn started to, angling his hips down to keep his cock in that soft crevice as he rolled his hips. It certainly wasn’t the easiest way he’d ever found an orgasm, but it was novel, and just the sight of Gilgamesh below him, strong and masculine with his barrel chest and broad shoulders shoving his pecs together like a common whore was certainly aiding the experience.

Ardyn didn’t know if he could actually finish this way, thrusting along the warm, slick groove, staring down at Gilgamesh’s sated, sloppy grin, but he was certainly determined to try, hips jerking more and more urgently in an uneven rhythm. Though somewhat mindful to keep his voice down, Ardyn didn’t stop the little whines and moans that bubbled up inside him, letting them spill from his lips without real restraint. Despite the slightly awkward positioning, he could feel the pleasure quickly building up in his lower stomach, added to with each needy thrust, with each long, low moan Gilgamesh let out while watching him, at the sight of his cock sliding against Gilgamesh’s tan skin.

It only took a few minutes for Ardyn to get close, little prickles running down his inner thighs, and he arched his back slightly, Gilgamesh squeezing his pecs tighter in response. His hair was in his face, sweat beaded over his skin, running down along his spine in tiny rivulets, and it felt like Ardyn’s world had narrowed down to just every point of contact with Gilgamesh in this heady rush.

Ardyn’s orgasm took him by surprise, pushed over by one particularly sharp moan of Gilgamesh’s, so deep Ardyn could feel it rumbling in his chest. Choking off a moan, he squeezed Gilgamesh’s chest with his thighs, cock spasming as he painted Gilgamesh’s chest and chin with his finish, a few hot, white streaks splashed against warm brown skin. He clutched at the accubita to keep himself upright, hips moving through a few final, jerky thrusts as he rode out his orgasm, the pleasure that had coursed through his veins slowly evaporating, the drug of desire wearing off.

As Ardyn relaxed, Gilgamesh placed his hands back on his thighs, squeezing them appraisingly before stroking down to Ardyn’s knees. Ardyn pushed off the accubita, leaning back, instead resting his hands on Gilgamesh’s knees behind him, putting his whole torso on display.

“Where on Eos did you learn that one?” he asked, smirking. “Is that something else native to your home country?”

Gilgamesh laughed sharply, drawing back and slapping Ardyn’s thigh, Ardyn feigning surprise and flinching slightly. “No,” he said, hand soothingly rubbing the spot as Ardyn mock pouted, “it was just something I picked up since I’ve been here, from the same harlot who taught you to suck cock.”

“I won’t hear your base slander,” Ardyn huffed in mock indignation. “We are a prim and proper people.”

Gilgamesh hummed his sarcastic acquiescence. “Until you’re behind closed doors.”

“Exactly,” Ardyn said. “Spoken like a true Lucian.”

They were silent for a beat, Ardyn just tracing nothings on Gilgamesh’s collarbone

“You know,” he drawled after a moment, “I’d like to try the authentic versions of these someday. See how my own compared.”

Below him, Gilgamesh smiled brightly. “I’d love to show you.” He traced a little circle on Ardyn’s leg for a beat. “But your mutton could’ve used more ginger.”

Ardyn pinched him, pouting despite knowing it was clearly meant in jest. Gilgamesh laughed softly before he grasped Ardyn at the waist, turning him over and pressing him into the accubita, lying on top of him and smothering him with a kiss.


End file.
